Speaking in ToneDeaf Silence
by kaleidoscopeXmonkey
Summary: After a routine exploration goes horribly wrong, an unknown ensign is forced to take control.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Star Trek does not belong to me. I am making no profit from this.

--

_The world spun steadily, as it had for millions of years, circling a nondescript yellow star in a nondescript galaxy, one of thousands like it, one of millions._

_Day turned to night, turned to day again, and people lived and people died, just as it had always been and always would be._

_Today was no different from the days before it and the days that would follow, except for one girl._

_She woke from a deep sleep, shouting at her computer to turn the alarm off, then rolled out of bed._

_Today, everything would change._

_Today, her life would begin._

--

She checked her padd one last time, reading out her assignment. This was it. One last check to make sure her gold uniform was in place, and she was ready.

"Lieutenant Marisol Evans, reporting for duty," she said in clear, clipped tones. Though her heart was fluttering in her chest, her voice did not waiver. She was a Starfleet officer, and had to act accordingly. This was her dream, to serve on the _Enterprise, _and she wasn't going to mess it up.

"Welcome aboard, Lieutenant. Ensign Rafe will show you to your quarters, and then you will report to the Bridge for duty at 1800 hours."

--

"Here you are, Lieutenant."

Marisol's sapphire-blue eyes lit up as she scanned her new quarters. They were much bigger than the ones she'd had in the past, on smaller ships and back at the academy, and best of all she didn't have to share them with anyone.

"Thank you, ensign," she said distractedly, enamored with the accommodations. She had her own personal replicator—something she'd never had before—and even her own bathroom and sonic shower. And best of all, her bed was bigger than the one on her last posting.

Hopefully she could get some sleep before she had to go on duty.

"I'll let you get settled, then," Rafe said, and left.

Marisol dropped her bag on the bed before lying down herself and staring at the ceiling. This was her dream, to serve on the _Enterprise_, and yet…

And yet, she couldn't help feeling an overwhelming sadness, a flood of emotion that she'd tried and failed to keep back since she was little. Her other posts hadn't been long missions, and she'd been able to return to Earth, at least for a little while, twice a year. This time, though, it was going to be much longer.

She closed her eyes. Everything was going to be fine—she had her position, and she had her job, and while it had never been easy for her to make friends, she hoped she could at least find someone who understood.

"Computer, set alarm for 1745," she said, and drifted off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Marisol nearly fell out of bed as the computer's alarm buzzed through her room. Sighing, she hauled herself up and stumbled into the bathroom.

Her hair was messed, though her uniform unwrinkled—lucky, she supposed, as she didn't have another one lying around, and there was no way she was going to arrive on the Bridge looking like… well, like she'd just rolled out of bed.

She smoothed down her hair, running her fingers through her somewhat unruly curls and hoping it didn't look too horrible. Most officers kept their hair cut short or pulled back, but she preferred to leave hers free. It was a personal choice, and normally didn't affect her duties too much. And it kept unwanted questions away.

One last look in the mirror, a check to make sure her uniform emwasn't/em wrinkled, and she was ready. She took a deep breath, nodded at her reflection, and strode swiftly out of her quarters.

--

"Lieutenant Evans, reporting for duty," Marisol said, stepping onto the Bridge. She prided herself on her ability to keep her voice steady, even as her heart threatened to beat out of her chest and the nerves persisted in her mind. She quashed the feeling, forcing herself to stay calm, as she glanced around at her crewmates.

"You're our new pilot, right?" a man in a gold shirt—Marisol recognized him as the celebrated Captain—said. He grinned at her. Marisol nodded, feeling entirely out of her depth. "Great. Take the conn, then. Mr. Sulu?"

She relieved the other officer, sliding into her seat and running her fingers along the controls. It was a strange sensation, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she could nearly feel the Captain's eyes on her. She shifted uncomfortably, and glanced sideways at the young man next to her.

He was staring.

As was nearly everyone else.

--

_Four years ago, before the Academy, she'd been attending a typical high school in Missouri. She'd been exceptionally bright, lightyears ahead of her peers, and everyone knew she was just biding her time until Starfleet accepted her._

_For the most part, she kept to herself, and everyone else ignored her. They thought she was strange, and Marisol was okay with that. She wanted to focus on her studies._

_Until…_

_Until her mother showed up. _

_And then the whispers started. The stares. Nothing obvious, nothing overt—and yet more painful than the loudest taunts. _

_A week later, she was accepted to Starfleet._

--

"So then, Mr. Spock," the Captain said cheerfully, spinning around in his chair and breaking the silence centered around Marisol, "anything interesting?"

"We will not arrive at our destination for another twelve hours, Captain," Spock said, and Marisol couldn't help the strong feeling of discomfort running up her spine, and she tried to block out their voices. A glint of red out of the corner of her eye caught her attention instead, and she focused on that.

The ensign who had shown her to her quarters was giving her an encouraging smile, and she smiled back.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all, she thought, even as the ensign sitting to her right continued staring at her in a way that only added to her unease.

Still, Marisol had a duty. She was professional. She could deal with the stares; it was nothing she hadn't endured before, and now she was an officer, and she was going to perform her job to the best of her ability.

Just as long as nobody noticed. She wasn't sure she could deal with that.


End file.
